Sunday, October 11, 2015

On The Way (Short Fiction)

This short story started as a writing prompt: a photo of a family gathered around a map.


Maddie sighed and leaned back against the too-firm headrest. Her husband Ray clenched the wheel, glaring down the road. In the backseat, their three sons snapped, whined, and shoved one another, mirroring the tension they felt from Mom and Dad.
            “Look at that!” growled Ray, jerking a nod toward a passing sign. “Pine Ridge Road. I told you that idiot at the gas station didn’t know anything. According to him, we wouldn’t have hit that for miles.”
            “Maybe you just didn’t understand him,” Maddie said in a low voice. “You already said the map must be wrong.” The bite of sarcasm tinged her words.
            “The name of that road back there was different.”
            “Or it was a different road.”
            Ray’s knuckles turned white. “Alright, that’s it!”
            The bickering in the backseat stopped instantly, replaced by worried silence.
            Maddie cringed. Oh, God, this was supposed to be our great vacation, our healing time as a family. It’s just making it worse. We can’t even find the campground.
            Ray pulled the car over to the side of the road. He turned a weary, dark-eyed look on his family. “Okay, we’re going to get some fresh air.”
            He stepped out and slammed the door. Maddie and the boys slowly followed. Peter and James, the younger two, immediately ran to the guardrail and looked out over the forest vista. The eldest, Matthew, leaned against the car.
            Ray and Maddie stared at one another for a long moment. “Alright, get out the map,” he grumbled. “We’ll try one more time to figure out where this place is, and if it doesn’t work—we’re turning back.”
            Peter gave a yelp of dismay.
            “Quiet,” Ray warned.
            “Be gentler!” Maddie snapped.
            “Just get the map.”
            They huddled around the sheet of paper, fingers tracing the ink lines, the air between them thick with anxiety. Maddie was aware of each member of her family. Peter swallowing back sobs. James rubbing his eyes while his lip quivered. Matthew glaring. Anger and frustration coiling in Ray—a spring winding tight, ready to explode.
            Maddie was holding back tears. Her mind whirled with all the things she wanted to pour out on her husband—how he was crushing the boys’ spirits, how he was setting such a horrible example, how he didn’t listen to her or anyone…
            Maddie turned away from the map. With a mumbled excuse, she left her husband and sons to pore over it—his voice sharp, theirs pleading—and walked over to the guardrail.
            God, we’re so lost, she prayed. I can’t do this. Please, show us the way to go.
            “Maddie,” said Ray in a brusque tone, “let’s get moving.” She turned back and he waved the map. “We’ve been reading it backwards, or something. Idiot map-makers.”
            She saw the weary expectation in his glance. He was waiting for her to chastise him, as she always did. But this time, Maddie waited, and listened to a quiet voice inside.
            “I suppose you want to check the route?” Ray grumbled, fingers crinkling the edges of the map.
            The quiet voice spoke, and Maddie followed its lead. “No, that’s alright.” What the voice said next was hard. But in a few moments of inner debate, she realized it couldn’t be worse than the exhausting tension. She took a deep breath and met Ray’s eyes. “I trust you.”
            He was still for a moment, and then averted his gaze. “Okay.”
            They got in and drove.
            Ray muttered to himself about stupid roads and maps and people, but Maddie kept silent, and prayed. At every turn, she prayed. Ray’s muttering fizzled out into sighs.
            “Hmph,” he grunted suddenly, “nice trees here.”
            Then Peter gave an excited cry. “Mommy, Daddy, look!”

            A huge wooden sign ahead welcomed them to Peace River Campground.

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